


fogadalom

by _hiving (antmaiden)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Background wartime AU, F/F, Human AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antmaiden/pseuds/_hiving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Piper touched Annabeth’s hair, they were both ten years old. She got a slap on her face. </p><p>"Only my husband will be allowed to touch my hair." </p>
            </blockquote>





	fogadalom

The first time Piper touched Annabeth’s hair, they were both ten years old. She got a slap on her face.

"Only my husband will be allowed to touch my hair."

She envied her, that day, regretting the fact that she never thought of something so girlishly romantic. Piper had a long hair too, but not as shiny as Annabeth’s, not as thick, and definitely not as sacred. Leo had messed around with it countless times, arranged it in tiny braids that made them unfurled all over the place when undone. After finding out Annabeth’s resolution, Piper started hitting Leo for touching her hair, but it didn’t last long until she let him play with it again.

Her hair wasn’t destined to be as precious.

The second time Piper touched Annabeth’s hair, she pinched it between her left fingers, her right hand holding a scissor. Annabeth sat quietly on a chair, a full length mirror in front of them, a rag pooling on the floor under her wave-like tresses.

"My brothers and sisters will join the war, and I will too."

They didn’t need nurse with long, beautiful hair.

Piper started working, the crisp heartless sound of blade meeting strands pulled a string in her throat. They fell like dead snakes around them, the rich color somehow lost its magic when not attached to their owner. She sobbed, as though she was the one being amputated, and Annabeth sneered to her in the mirror.

"Stupid. You taught me girls shouldn’t cry. Crying is for the weak."

"But you’ve kept them for so long—"

"It’s not like I can’t grow them back."

But it wouldn’t be the same. Piper knew this, Annabeth knew this, and while it was only Annabeth who threw away her childhood dream, it felt like Piper lost something big too. The days she spent protecting Annabeth from the boys, the days she helped her wearing a hat to keep her treasure—

—it was all for naught.

"Do you remember what I told you about my hair?"

"Of course," she intended to say it in unreined certainty, but a wet sniffle got in the way. "You want it to be a gift for your husband."

"That’s right," Annabeth murmured ever so quietly, and Piper daren’t to look at her reflections. Annabeth hate it when someone sees her tears, almost as much as she didn’t like her hair being touched. "But maybe my future husband’s dead in the war, anyway. And maybe I will to."

"Annabeth—"

"And that’s why," she cut her off sternly, as if trying to block Piper’s argument and convincing herself at the same time. "I present them to you instead. You’re the only person to have the privilege to take their virginity."

Piper half-chuckled half-sobbed at her choice of word. Annabeth smiled slightly.

The next day the Chase siblings were gone, and they didn’t come back even after the war ended. It took time, but eventually Piper stopped taking the long route of passing their home to check whether a miracle happened and Annabeth would be there in their balcony, newly grown hair dancing with the wind.

The Chase family’s lot was sold to the city council. Piper watched as the house being torn down, another keepsake of her childhood gone in a heap of woods and splinters. She didn’t cry in daylight, but at night, when it was lonely and the stars shone bright like Annabeth’s hair all those years ago, she did.

She still kept Annabeth’s hair in a box, blanketed in glittery wrapping paper. She had tied and braided it, making it looked like a limp rope, the color fading after years of being dead. She untied and re-combed it affectionately, reminiscing the times when she admired it on Annabeth, dreaming of weaving her fingers through them, adorn them with pastel colored ribbons.

She took them to a doll maker the next day, the puppet artist frowned at her strict request of him wearing gloves when touching the hair.

The doll finished in months, but she was beautiful, her crystal eyes deep gray, her frilly dress so full of lace Piper found it hard to carry her without crumpling them. She put her in a glass box in the living room, and everyone praise her golden hair the same way they used to praise the long forgotten Chase girl.

"What’s her name, Mama?" Her daughter asked one day, tiptoeing for a glimpse of the exquisite object she adored so much.

"Annabeth. Her name is Annabeth, sweetheart."

"It’s a lovely name," her daughter sighed, fingers knocking the unbreakable glass curiously. "Why can’t I touch her?"

"Because, baby," Piper took her daughter by hand and led her to the kitchen, where their afternoon snack awaited.

"Only I allowed to caress my Annabeth’s hair."

**Author's Note:**

> As you see, I'm still trying to get a grip of their characterizations (so does all the other PJO/HOO characters, but the girls are harder to write somehow). Call this a practice writing because I really want to participate in [PJOFemSlashWeeks](http://pjofemslashweeks.tumblr.com/) (a very awesome event btw, you should check it out!) and I REALLY want to write these ladies better when the time comes. 
> 
> Thus, it'd be a great help if anyone would like to give me constructive criticism, especially in their characterizations and dynamics. If you have fanfic recs, please do tell me too.


End file.
